


Outlet (Ghirahim/Reader)

by altmeris



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:19:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altmeris/pseuds/altmeris
Summary: You are one of Demon Lord Ghirahim's many servants, and one day he approaches you with a very specific demand...





	Outlet (Ghirahim/Reader)

You have just finished dusting a beautiful grand piano when you hear your name being called.

Only one person had such a presence in his voice, the wonderful, dulcet voice that made your insides flip over pleasantly. This time though, it had a harsh ring to it.

You turn to see Lord Ghirahim striding quickly toward you, and the look on his face tells you he is not happy. His hawklike eyes are narrowed and his mouth is set in a tight line.

“Lord Ghirahim?” you ask quietly. Concerned was an understatement, if he was angry at you, you might not leave this room alive.

“Come,” he growls, grabbing your wrist with a vicelike grip. He leads you from the room at a brisque pace, dragging you along behind him, gripping you so tightly that if not for his gloves, you are sure his nails would be digging into your skin. You can hear him panting, and the lights flicker dangerously as the two of you pass by them. His bedroom door swings magically open with a wave of one gloved hand, he drags you inside, and it slams shut behind you. Only then does he let go of your wrist, eyeing you much the same way a cat would eye a mouse.

“What’s this about, my Lord?” you ask.

Ghirahim blinks slowly and then begins to pace back and forth in front of you, hands clasped behind his back in an authoratative pose. “It has been a very trying day for me,” he replies. He turns his back, silent for a moment, and then adds, “I’m weary, I’m frustrated, I’m stressed, and I need to vent.” He suddenly whips around and points at you. “Servant! Take off your clothing!”

You stare at him. “What?” Your heart does a strange flip in your chest.

Ghirahim growls at you. “Do it! Show yourself to me!”

Hardly daring to believe what is happening, you grab hold of your dress and lift it over your head and let it fall to the floor, slip off your shoes, and start to peel off your leggings.

“Faster!” barks Ghirahim. He nods in approval when you unclip your bra and reveal your breasts, and when you take off your panties, he licks his lips. He approaches, looking you over, walking around you, observing every bit of your body. Stopping in front of you, he looks down at you in that proud, superior way that sends a tingle of delight down your spine. There is a pause for a moment.

“Show me how you pleasure yourself,” he says.

You blush and stare at him, but your hesitation costs you. Impatient, Ghirahim grabs your shoulders and shoves you backward so you fall on the floor. His sabre appears in his right hand and he points it down at you.

“NOW!” he roars.

Again you hesitate, and again it costs you. He flicks the sword against your throat, not enough to seriously injure you, but enough that you start to bleed. You give a cry of pain and fascinated, thrilled terror. He could kill you so easily… so easily… one move from the Demon Lord that so dominated your thoughts and desires, one simple movement of his sword arm and you would be dead. He was dangerous, he was unpredictable, and it thrilled you, made you want him even more.

You wanted to see more, you wanted him to bear down on you with that sword and slide it against your soft flesh, but you knew it would be too much of a risk. Ghirahim was known for accidentally causing more injury than he intended.

“As you wish, my Lord.” You reach your fingers down to stroke yourself, gently at first, but it just feels so goddamn good that you abandon all pretense and slam your palm against your clit, grunting with pleasure, tickling your slit with your fingers. Ghirahim watches you, inhumanly still, unblinking, his russet eyes never leaving your body. He doesn’t move until his name tumbles from your lips, and you hear him make a noise akin to a whine. He lunges at you, scooping you up into his arms.

“That’s enough,” he breathes in your ear. You make a whine of protest, your clit throbbing needily, moving to put your hand between your legs again but he stops you. “Ah-ah, not yet,” he purrs. His fury is gone, replaced by a deliciously evil smirk, his eyes gleaming hungrily. He carries you to the bed and flings you away to land on its soft, crimson covers. As you look up at him, he chuckles and removes his gloves one by one with his teeth, obviously intending to be seductive. His mantle fades in a flurry of crimson diamonds, revealing his powerful torso, his white clothing tight enough to expose almost every detail of his lean, muscular frame. He licks his lips and then pounces on you, pinning you to the bed and kissing you fiercely, sliding his tongue into your mouth to caress and twirl with yours. You moan softly against his lips and he chuckles again, groping at one of your breasts, squeezing it gently, rolling his palm against your nipple, still kissing you.

He breaks away for a moment, panting, and flashes you a devious grin. He leans forward again, but instead of meeting your lips, he immerses himself in your neck, tickling it with his mouth and his breath, then sliding his tongue against your sensitive skin. Your whimper becomes a yelp as he bites down hard, sucking on your neck until he leaves a bright red mark when he lets go. Then his kisses resume again, travelling past your neck and down your front, down your belly, then moving to your inner thigh. You squirm impatiently, but Ghirahim puts his hands on your hips and holds you still.

“Ahhh, impatient, are we?” he growled. When you whimper in response, he gives your inner thigh a firm bite, not as powerful as the one he had planted on your neck, but enough to leave a mark. He lets go and kisses further up your thigh, getting closer and closer to your begging, sticky womanhood.

Then something hot, wet, and wonderful is lapping at it, sliding between your labia and flicking over your clit before slipping like a snake inside of you, swirling, probing, wriggling pleasurably. Gods, the Demon Lord had such an amazing tongue. You writhed and moaned, his tongue sliding back and forth. Then it slid out of you, and you barely had time to register what was happening before he closed his lips on your clit and sucked.

You cry out passionately, waves of pleasure engulfing your body. He sucks relentlessly, gripping your hips so tightly his nails leave marks in your skin, your clit throbbing in his mouth. He gives a low hum, the vibration from his voice stimulating you even more, prompting another loud cry of bliss. You reach down and bury your fingers in his ivory hair, keeping his head in position, loving the softness of its silky strands. He continues to suck, humming again on occasion, until you can’t take it anymore.

“UNNNNGHHH!” you scream, your insides convulsing in a wonderous orgasm. Ghirahim laughs wickedly, not releasing your clit until the pulsing dies down and you are finished. He gives you one final lick before surfacing, his lips shining with your essence, smirking triumphantly.

“You taste lovely,” he purrs. His smirk becomes a grin. “Did that feel good?”

“Yes…” you rasp.

“Mmm… and this is just the beginning. I’m not done with you yet!” He sits up and his clothing slowly fades, from his shoulders and his feet inward, until at last it uncovers his throbbing, stiff length. Noticing you staring, he hums in amusement.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize.

“Oh, don’t be, little one,” he preens, “It’s impressive, isn’t it?” he strokes it, giving a low moan of pleasure. “But this sword lacks a scabbard.” He climbs on top of you, his tip brushing against your soft spot. He leans forward to whisper in your ear, “And I imagine yours will be a perfect fit.”

And without warning, he shoves inside you with a loud grunt, immediately beginning to thrust, slowly at first, getting a feel for your slick insides before gradually quickening. You moan loudly, needily, wriggling beneath him, both of you starting to pant. His thrusts are strong, vigorous, powerful, each one making a loud squishing noise as he presses further, deeper into you. Pleasure overwhelms you and you mirror his movements, moving your pelvis to crash against his instinctively, unable to control yourself even if you had wanted to.

“Ghirahim!” you can’t help but cry out his name.

You feel a shudder pass through his body and he moans loudly, it was obvious this had pleased him.

“Again! Say my name!” he pants.

“Ghirahim!”

“Say my name!”

“Ghirahim!”

“Ahhhh…”

He quickens his pace, grunting and panting, the golden bedframe crashing against the wall- BANG! BANG! BANG!- with each thrust. He doesn’t seem to notice this, or at least, he doesn’t pay it any mind. His focus is on you, immersed in your body, your voice, the pleasure burning with glorious, tingling heat.

“You… you feel so good… YOU FEEL SO GOOD!” his voice is almost incoherent, his body slippery with sweat. You can’t muster any words in response, and instead reply with a growling cry of passion, his length exciting every nerve it rubs against. Eventually you feel something hot and sticky oozing against your walls and realize he is dripping inside of you.

He was close, and you could feel it. His grunts and moans were getting louder, he was thrusting faster, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched. Both of you are gripping the sheets tightly, but suddenly he moves one of his hands and presses his palm against your clit, supporting some of his weight over it to add more glorious pressure, as if unwilling to cum without you. Several blissful moments pass before-

“AAHHH! GHIRAH-!” you shriek, orgasm flooding you once more, even better than the last one, your insides writhing and tightening, enveloping his length in a sticky, slippery heat, pulsing again, again, again, until you lose count.

He reaches his breaking point in the middle of yours, your insides are still sucking pleasurably when he yelps noisily. His length throbs heavily for a moment before spraying hot, sticky cum inside of you, some of it dripping out to make a white mess on the sheets beneath you.

The overwhelming pleasure fades into a warm, content feeling as you grin breathlessly at each other. After a few moments, Ghirahim pulls out of you, his length dripping with both of your fluids. He rolls over and collapses on his back, still panting. It is a while before either of you speak.

“Do you feel better now?” you ask finally.

“Yes,” he replies. “Much better. Come here, you.” He rolls onto his side and pulls you against him, cuddling you, nuzzling affectionately at your neck.

Eventually, the both of you begin to drift off to sleep, feeling that all is right with the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there is a little nod to a Loki quote in there.


End file.
